


There’s No Falling Back to Sleep Once You’ve Wakened From the Dream

by theshipsfirstmate



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6544147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipsfirstmate/pseuds/theshipsfirstmate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometime post-4x18, Felicity's spinal implant malfunctions and Oliver visits her in the hospital.</p>
<p>“I just wanted you to know that I’m still here, if there’s anything you need. Anything at all.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	There’s No Falling Back to Sleep Once You’ve Wakened From the Dream

_So here’s what happened.[effie214](http://archiveofourown.org/users/effie214/pseuds/effie214) wrote an [amazing tag fic](http://effie214.tumblr.com/post/141982988871), which featured a scene in which Felicity’s spinal implant malfunctioned and Oliver visited her in the hospital. That moment stuck with me big time, and somehow became this.  
_

_A/N: I want to note that this fic was basically finished before last week’s ep and due to that, it’s not a lot about reaction or recovery to that event. (shameless self-promotion just in case you WOULD like to read a fic about Oliver and Felicity coping:[I’d Rather Fuel the Fantasy Than Deal With This Alone)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6514468)_

_Title from “[February Seven](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DrkVM4AxzxCE&t=MjEzNWFmZjg5ZGE0ZjhmOTU3YThkNTZkMTU5ZWM4YTg2MDliMTQ2YSxWYWtqQkVvTw%3D%3D)” by The Avett Brothers_

**There’s No Falling Back to Sleep Once You’ve Wakened From the Dream**

As a teenager, Felicity never really liked any of her mother’s boyfriends, but of the dozen or so semi-serious suitors that came and went before she left for college, she probably hated Donnie the most.

It wasn’t just the similarity of their names – although that was pretty awful in itself, worn to death by the end of the couple’s first week together – the guy was not to be trusted. He kept strange hours, still wore a pager even though most everyone had cell phones, and his financial situation tended to fluctuate between taking her mother out for a fancy dinner on a Saturday night, and borrowing money for some bill or another by Monday morning. (These days, she pretty much gets it, though she’s still not sure if it was drugs, gambling, or something less predictable.)

Mostly though, Felicity hated him because he was the reason she spent the spring of seventh grade and most of the following summer with her right arm in a cast.

It wasn’t how it sounded. She explained that to her teacher, and then again to the concerned school counselor, realizing a muttered “It was my mother’s stupid boyfriend’s fault,” was more of an eyebrow-raiser than she intended it to be.

Donnie had been driving them to the casino for Donna’s overnight shift when it happened. It was a Friday night, and Felicity had a bag full of homework and a pillow and blanket, ready to spend her evening in the break room with one of the other waitress’ kids. It wasn’t ideal, but it was certainly better than whatever her mother’s boyfriend was up to, especially given that his energy that night was even more manic than usual.

He was all over the place, tuning the radio knob every minute or so, putting his sunglasses on, then taking them off, tapping his hand out of time on the steering wheel of his beloved Impala. His eyes went from the road, to the rearview mirror, to Donna – which made Felicity’s stomach turn a little – back to the road, and started again. They did not, apparently, register the red light.

Felicity wasn’t knocked totally unconscious by the crash, but it took a moment to piece together what had happened through the smoke and ringing sound in her ears. The first words she heard, unfortunately, were Donnie’s.

“Jesus Christ, my fucking car,” he muttered. The impact had spun them mostly out of the intersection, but horns were still honking all around them, and despite her mother’s boyfriend’s best efforts, the Impala wasn’t going anywhere.

“What happened?” Donna turned to the backseat, and Felicity could see a trickle of blood running down her forehead, where her head must have hit the window. It wasn’t until she tried to reach towards her mother and couldn’t that she recognized the shooting pain in her right arm.

When the horns turned to sirens, Donnie started to panic. “Ah shit.” He slid across the bench seat, away from the steering wheel. “Donna, quick, switch with me.”

“What?” The confusion registered on her mother’s face, but she never turned around, never let her eyes leave Felicity’s. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Move the fuck over,” Donnie said again, manhandling her across his lap to the driver’s side. Felicity wanted to smack his face, told herself it was the first thing she’d do once her arm started working again. “If the cops ask, you were driving.”

Felicity was only in the hospital for a few hours that night. “You’re lucky the bone didn’t break the skin,” the nurse had told her, in a voice that was so saccharine it made her queasy. “You won’t even have a scar.” As they waited for the X-rays to come back so they could cast the break, the adrenaline wore off, and the painkillers kicked in. She dozed off for a bit, waking only to the sound of her mother’s angry voice.

“Your daughter is in the hospital, and I refuse to believe that even you…” Donna trailed off when she turned to see that Felicity was awake, snapping her flip phone shut immediately. “Baby, I’m so sorry you had to hear that.”

“How did you even call him?” The phone numbers they had for her father all led to automated out-of-service tones or anonymous answering machines. It was no use to try and reach him, Felicity knew that, though not for lack of effort.

“It was a message,” her mother admitted, a hidden layer of desperation just barely audible beneath her anger. “I thought he might have one tiny scrap of decency left, that he might care that you were hurt.”

“We can’t pay for this, can we?” It wasn’t a question that really needed to be asked, and Felicity regretted it the second her mother nervously bit down on her lower lip. She’d spent nearly two decades of her life working in casinos, but Donna’s tells were still plain as day.

“That’s not for you to worry about, hon.” Felicity’s mother smoothed her hair down, and with it, brushed away her feeble hopes that the accident might boot Donnie from their lives for good. The slimeball had bolted the second they had been admitted, nearly leaving a Wile E. Coyote-inspired hole in the wall of the emergency room. But in that moment, they both knew he’d be back.

“I just thought,” Donna continued, brow still furrowed, “I mean, he’s your father…”

“Yeah, well it’s not his fault I’m in here, is it?” Felicity’s angry accusation was meant for meant her mother’s boyfriend, really it was but since he wasn’t here to take the blow, it landed squarely on Donna’s shoulders, which slumped a little under the weight of another disappointment.

“This is just temporary, hon,” her mother told her softly, in the sing-song voice that sometimes meant she was lying. Felicity didn’t have to guts to ask if she was talking about the cast or their circumstances. “It’s just temporary.”

* * *

It’s starts out with a tingling in her toes, like her foot is falling asleep, and Felicity’s distracted with the spec for Palmer Tech’ latest prototypes, so it takes her a few minutes to realize that maybe it’s not a good thing that both legs are falling asleep at once. Before she can put two and two together, she’s lost all feeling entirely.

It’s like the worst kind of deja vu, as the familiar helplessness washes over her, and she sits in her office, stuck in her desk chair, wondering what exactly she’s supposed to do. Not a month ago, she could do almost everything in her wheelchair, and now, it’s like the entirety of that memory has been deleted from her brain, dismissed as soon as she stood again for the first time. The only thing left in its place is the realization that a solution isn’t the same thing as a miracle.

It might be two minutes or twenty before Curtis barges into her office, talking a mile a minute.

“I think I’ve figured out something big.” His eyes are fixed on the tablet he’s holding in front of him, so he doesn’t see the panic that must be written on her face. “I think if we just restructure the nanotechnology a bit, we can cut…”

“Curtis, I’m going to stop you right there.” Her shaky tone of voice pulls him up short, and he’s already in motion towards her, brows furrowed with concern, when she continues.

“I think I need you to call Paul,” she admits, “and maybe also take me to the hospital.”

It doesn’t take them long to determine what exactly is malfunctioning, but there isn’t a way to repair the chip without removing it temporarily, which means more surgery. Once it’s out, Curtis takes it back to Palmer Tech for the repairs, and Felicity finds herself alone in the hospital room.

“This is just temporary,” she says out loud to the empty space, taking a deep breath and trying to convince herself that there’s no one she should be calling right now. She’s midway through figuring out how to keep this little setback from her mother, when there’s a knock at the door and a familiar face on the other side of the threshold.

“Hi,” Oliver’s voice cracks on the single syllable, somehow, and Felicity promises herself she won’t cry.

It’s a half-hearted promise, given that she’s been crying on and off since Laurel’s funeral, which, incidentally, is the last time she saw him. Thea’s checked in a few times, texting her with tech-related questions and sending an all-clear when the team had a close enough call to land them on the news.

Oliver though, he’s gone radio silent. Digg too. She’s not sure which one hurts more.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” she tells him now. Part of her hopes that they both know she’s lying. Another part knows it sounded too harsh either way. “I mean, I’m sorry you had to come back here.”

Oliver just nods, taking a deep breath, like he’s preparing himself for something. “Curtis told me what happened,” he half-explains. She should have figured as much. “All I could think about was last time, how I wasn’t here soon enough.”

“Oliver…” His name feels foreign on her tongue and the realization that it might actually have been a few days since she last said it out loud splinters another crack in her heart. His words, this history between them, the memories that haunt these hospital halls, it’s all too much.

“Really, it’s not even a big thing.” She tries to assure him, calling on confidence she doesn’t really posses. “Curtis is fixing the chip right now, hopefully I’ll be back on my feet on no time.”

“I don’t want to….” He trails off and she plays an agonizing game of mental Mad Libs trying to fill in the blank. “I just wanted you to know that I’m still here, if there’s anything you need. Anything at all.”

She knows, or rather, she remembers. When she came home from the hospital the first time, Oliver was nearly unbearable. Constantly asking her what he could bring her, waiting on her hand and foot, watching her for any sign of discomfort, trying desperately to fix what he thought he was responsible for breaking.

“You have to stop,” she had snapped at him once. “You’re just _constantly_ …”

Underfoot, was the word, except for that it wasn’t. She hadn’t been able to say it. And that was all for the better, because while he toned down the intensity, they both knew there was no way he was going to be able to stop completely.

Felicity can see that impulse in Oliver’s eyes now, as he stands before her. It’s clouded a bit by a layer of guilt that shines almost as strong as when she first met him, but it’s there. It breaks her heart a little, to think of how hard he must be warring against his hard-wired need to save her, but she’s got a few battles to fight on her own front. When she has to tear her eyes away from his, she notices the duffel he must have been holding the whole time.

“What’s in the bag?”

“It’s uh, a go bag I had packed for you back at the loft,” he answers, shuffling his feet. The only available chair is at her bedside, and she’s not sure either of them could handle it if he sat down right now. “You didn’t know about it, so it makes sense that you didn’t take it with you.”

“A go bag?”

“Yeah, just in case we ever had to…go. Quickly, you know,” he explains. “It’s got clothes, backup glasses, contacts, some of your toiletries, and an extra tablet loaded with the latest backup from the…from the bunker.”

“Wow, that’s…perfect,” she tells him, because it really is. Thoughtful too. He steps forward to lay it next to her on the bed, and even without looking through it, she knows it’s everything she needs. So is he, but this is something she can actually have. “Thank you, Oliver.”

He just nods, again, and they hold eye contact for what’s probably too long, though Felicity can’t really bring herself to care.

“Maybe I should…” This time, it’s easy to imagine the end of his sentence, and suddenly, desperately, she needs him not to say it out loud.

“Will you do something for me?”

“Anything.” Oliver answers so fast, her heart skips a beat.

“Will you just…” He’d put the ring back on her finger right now, if she asked, no question. Felicity’s as certain of that as she is sure that it’s a dangerous path to even think on for too long. “Will you sit with me? Just for a little longer.”

His shoulders relax, like a weight’s been lifted, and maybe it’s the morphine, but she thinks she sees a little twinkle in his eyes and a hint of that smile he used to save just for her.

“Of course I will,” he says on an exhale. “Felicity, I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me.”

It’s the truth, and she knows it. The weak, lovesick part of her brain is screaming at her to just tell him “forever.”

“I thought about calling someone,” she admits, unsure of how to describe the feeling that courses through her as he crosses the room to sit in the chair by the bed. “My mother or maybe Digg, or… Well that’s about it, I guess.”

It’s a depressing thought, but she pushes through, knowing he deserves to hear what she needs to tell him. “But then I realized, you’re the only person I wanted to see right now.”

“Felicity…” He starts, but she can’t let him finish. The earlier attempts to placate him into leaving are out the window after her admission, and the honesty starts flooding out of her.

“Every minute that goes by in here is another minute that I can’t feel my legs, again, and honestly? I’m losing it a little.” Felicity’s voices catches on a high pitch on the last few words and then she’s sobbing again, soft little shakes of her shoulders that bend her forward on the bed.

Oliver leaps into action, scooting his chair closer and grabbing her hands in his, soothing sounds and unconscious pet names spilling from his lips as they try to slow her breathing together.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” he whispers. She thinks maybe he lets a “baby” slip in there, but he’s not close enough for her to know for sure.

“You had so much faith the first time,” she sniffles. “I know it’s not fair to ask you again, when we’re not…”

“Try and stop me,” Oliver interrupts, smoothing a thumb over her knuckles and using his other hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Felicity, I’m going to love you until the day I die.”

Her eyes squeeze shut and her throat burns with more unshed tears at his words, but when he clutched her hand even tighter, she squeezes back.

“I’m sorry, if that’s not something you want to hear right now,” he continues, “But it’s permanent, and it means that I will always be there if you need me, and I will always, always have faith in you.”

She has to open her eyes at that, has to meet his gaze and show him how grateful she is for him in this moment, because her words might not do it justice.

“Thank you, Oliver.” He smiles at her, something genuine that even reaches his tired eyes, and she realizes that the fingers of his hand still holding hers are tracing circles around her empty ring finger.

“For the record, I will always, always have faith in you, too,” she tells him, hoping he’s able to read between the lines and glean the meaning she’s not ready to say just yet. “That’s permanent.”


End file.
